by J. R. Rain
It wasn’t Uncle Joe, I knew. And he wasn’t okay. Nor was his buddy, Mike, who was going insane just like my brother. But I was the father, the protector.
“Sweetie, I think they have some rare infection—”
“From what?”
“I don’t know.”
I recalled my brother’s words: “I don’t think we should have touched it.”
Jesus, what the hell had they touched?
“What are you going to do, Daddy?”
I thought about it. “For starters, I’m locking you in here. Don’t let anyone but me in, okay?”
“You’re not locking me in!”
“Just for five minutes, honey. I promise you. I want to get those two, ah, settled. They can’t think straight, and they are agitated.”
She nodded, her eyes big and round and reflecting what little ambient light was in the room. “Is Uncle Joe all right?”
“He will be.” I prayed that this was true. “I’ll make sure. I just need you to stay put for five minutes. I promise I’ll be back.”
She was almost on the verge of tears now, forcing control. “Okay.”
On impulse, I handed her my gun. “Trade you for your knife?”
She took the gun in her hand, feeling its weight. She knew how to shoot; I’d taught her. I could tell she was conflicted between fear and comfort. She reached under her pillow, handed me her Bowie knife. Like father, like daughter.
Another scratch at the door. “Get behind your bed,” I ordered.
She silently complied, slipping out of her covers and wedging herself between the wall and bed.
“I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
Peeking over the ruffled comforter, she looked up at me. “And if you’re not?”
“I will be.”
* * *
It all happened at once.
As I opened the door, I shoved Mike hard across the wall, and turned to lock Anna’s bedroom door. Anna, good girl, made no sound. Mike was dazed at first. Then with a rush of rage, he lurched toward me. I had his arm locked behind him before he could say “Boo.” I knew, the easier I made it, the likelier it was that he would comply.
“Easy, fella,” I soothed.
He fought me, then calmed down. It was a good thing he did...I had the hunting knife ready. I let up on my grip a little.
“Joe?”
“Joe is my brother. This is Jack. You came here because you are sick, remember?”
His arms dropped and I released my grip. He stumbled, caught the wall. He turned to face me. His eyes were glazed, lost. He blinked once, twice. “Jack?”
“Yes.”
“I was trying to sleep. I couldn’t. I don’t know why I’m standing here...”
“It’s okay,” I said. I flipped the knife over, hid it behind my forearm. My heart was hammering hard enough to pound in my ears. Mike continued bracing himself against the wall. His eyes weren’t right. They were wild. Like one of the animals at the zoo. I continued gripping the knife. “What made you sick, Mike?”
“The meteor.”
“What meteor?”
“It landed...we saw it fall...we shouldn’t have touched it. God, I’m thirsty. I feel so sick. I’m dying. I know it. I can feel it.”
Alarm rang through me. I’m a simple man. A park ranger. A father. A good friend to many. I didn’t know much about things that fell from the sky...or what they could do to a person. Unless my brother and his friend were babbling incoherently about the exact same thing, then I suspected something very alarming was happening...and it was happening to my own flesh and blood. My brother. And I hadn’t a clue what to do about it—or for him.
But one thing was certain. I needed to get Mike away from my daughter’s room, and secured in his own. I put a tentative hand on his shoulder. The guy was burning hot. I coaxed him back down the hall. He went willingly enough, stumbling often.
“Get some rest.”
“I can’t sleep. I...I can’t think either.”
I guided him into the room, led him to the bed. “Just relax,” I said calmly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Mike turned to face me. “You think so?”
I lied again. Some Native Americans believe it’s okay to lie to protect yourself. I didn’t see any fault with that logic now. “Yes, I know so.”
I sat him on the bed and inched toward the door. “You just relax,” I said again.
He stared at me blankly. Too blankly. There was that old joke that the lights are on but nobody’s home. That was exactly what I saw in his expression. The hair on my neck stood on end, and I shivered. I shut the door, fetched the key and locked him securely within.
My sick and deranged prisoner.
* * *
I returned to Anna. By now, she’d worked herself into a frantic state. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”
I paced inside her room, thinking fast. I had to contain these two, my brother and his friend. I didn’t know how incoherent they were, but I couldn’t take any chances. My first concern was Anna. Always Anna. I had to be sure she was safe.
I forced myself to calm down. I stopped next to her bed and had her climb over next to me. “Baby, you know something is wrong, right?”
“I think so.”
“I think something might be very, very wrong with your uncle.”
Despite her strength, and her maturity, tears sprang from her eyes. She loved her Uncle Joe.
I hugged her tight as she struggled through her emotions. I said, “I need for you to be safe, baby.”
“What about you?” she said through the tears.
“I’ll be okay. You know me. I’m always okay.”
“But Daddy...”
“Hush, angel. I’m the father here.”
Anna did hush as I ran my fingers through her hair. That always calmed her. I pulled my cell out of my pocket. Dialed.
“Brice here,” came the sleepy, slightly irritated reply.
“Brice, this is Jack.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got another wildcat.”
“No. I need a favor from you.”
“Carter, it better be good.”
I motioned for Anna to get dressed. “Can I bring Anna over to sleep there?”
Anna looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. “No! I want to stay with you.”
I ignored her as Brice came fully awake. After all, I had never asked him for anything. “Here? Sure. Hey, is everything okay, Jack?”
I remembered my brother’s words: Jack, I have to tell you something. But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. I considered, and figured it was best to keep Brice out of it. “Everything’s all right,” I answered smoothly, “I just have to help out a friend, that’s all. I don’t want Anna to be here alone.”
“You need any help, Carter? The wife is here; Anna will be fine.”
Anna was dressed. I next pointed to her laptop and backpack. “No, no. I just have to leave for a while. I may not be in tomorrow. Sorry. I need to take a personal day.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever taken a day off in the last ten years,” Brice’s voice had a touch of concern. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “See you in a few.”
* * *
On the drive to Brice’s place, I told Anna not to mention anything at all about her uncle and his friend visiting or being sick.
“Why?”
If I had a dime for every time Anna asked why, I’d be stinking rich. I said, “Because, darlin’, you know Uncle Joe is in the military. Something happened to make him sick. Top secret, I think. Our secret.”
“But what happened?”
“I’ll tell you later. For now, can I trust you to keep this to yourself?”
“Of course,” she answered, perhaps a little too easily.
“Not even your friends, okay?”
“Daddy, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Keep the secret. Okay?” I pressed.
“Fin
e.”
We pulled into Brice’s driveway. “Look, baby. I promise I will tell you when I know more myself. Right now, I’ve got to get back home and figure out how to best help Uncle Joe and his friend, Mike. And I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
We sat looking at each other for a minute. I thought of how much she reminded me of her mother. Smart, beautiful, inquisitive. Her mother, of course, was presently living in Portugal. Her mother, of course, had dumped me for her rich boss.
I shook my head all over again. Who the hell leaves their own daughter behind? What the hell had I been thinking? Truthfully, I had no idea my ex-wife had been selfish, although the signs had been there, I suppose. Mostly, she had never connected with Anna. Not like I had. Anna was thoroughly a Daddy’s girl.
Brice’s front porch light came on.
“We have to think of something to tell Brice,” I said.
Anna picked up my thoughts. She did that a lot these days. “Let’s just say Mom’s having another meltdown.”
I hated using my ex-wife as an excuse, but it was a pretty good idea. Brice wouldn’t question Anna about that. He would stay out of it. Brice opened the front door and stepped outside. Not much time.
“Angel, I don’t want you to worry, but there’s one more thing,” I said to Anna as Brice came toward the truck. Her gray eyes looked up at me. They were filled with tears. I didn’t blame her. “Since Uncle Joe is in the Navy, his bosses might be worried about him, too.”
She nodded, understanding. My daughter was pretty savvy.
I said, “Since Uncle Joe is family, it’s important for you to not say a word about this, especially if someone comes looking for him.”
“But wouldn’t they help him? I mean, don’t they have medicine and stuff...”
“Yes, but you have to trust me on this, Anna. I’ve taught you to always tell the truth. But this is different. If anyone comes to ask you questions, just say...”
“I’ll just say nothing. That’s not lying.”
It was lying, really, but Brice was waiting patiently outside our truck now.
I put my arms around her. “Good enough, baby.”
“Promise you’ll help Uncle Joe. And his friend.”
“I promise, darlin’.”
I had no idea how hard it would be to keep that promise.
Chapter Nine
I paused in the driveway outside my ex-wife’s family home. It was a big house. Beautiful and spacious. It was meant for love and shelter.
Not as a prison for my brother and his friend.
Jesus, had I really locked them both up?
I had. And, more importantly, I had to.
I drummed my fingers on the truck’s steering wheel, thinking. I wasn’t sure who to call, if anyone. My brother was obviously in trouble. AWOL, in fact. He would be court-martialed. I cared about that less than I did his health.
Something had fallen from the sky. Something had contaminated them. But what? And was I contaminated now, too? Was Anna?
“Jesus,” I whispered, breathing through my mouth, recalling the rage I had seen on Mike’s face as he had charged me.
Maybe they’re doing better, I thought.
Maybe, but I doubted it.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel some more, fighting to control my own rising fear...fear and anger toward my brother for bringing this sickness into our lives, and anger at him for being such an idiot. Again. For risking my life and that of my daughter.
He wasn’t thinking straight, I reminded myself. He needed help, I was his only safe haven.
I looked at the looming home before me, the familiar architecture shrouded in darkness. Somewhere in there, two men were locked up, waiting.
Maybe they were doing better now.
Maybe. But I doubted it.
I got out of the truck and headed up to the house.
* * *
They were, of course, far from better.
I found both my brother and Mike pawing at their bedroom doors. Scratching like animals. I didn’t know who to deal with first. They were both, obviously, getting progressively worse. For no other reason than he was closer, I chose to take care of Mike first.
My brother’s friend was just coherent enough to know what a gun was, but that was about it. I’d traded back my gun for Anna’s knife, telling her to keep her weapon a secret as well. I hated teaching my daughter to keep secrets.
Desperate times and all that, I thought now.
The closer I got to the door, the more the pawing seemed to increase. Jesus, was he pawing with his hands? I slipped the key in the lock, paused, collected myself...and unlocked Mike’s door.
I was prepared—or thought I was.
The bastard came at me in a fit of rage, but, oddly, was moving now much more slowly. I almost hated to punch him—after all, he seemed like a likable enough guy when I’d first met him—but he left me little choice.
I swung hard, my fist landing squarely on his left temple. The force of my blow staggered him. He didn’t register the pain, but I’d brought him to submission. When I showed him my gun, he wavered. His fingertips, I noticed, were torn and bloody. There was blood around the doorknob.
What the devil was going on?
Hand throbbing, I looked down and saw the cut on my knuckles. My punch had caught him in the mouth, splitting his lip and clipping a tooth. The tooth had opened the wound on my hand. Oddly, it burned like hell, but I didn’t have time to worry about it.
I steered Mike down the stairs and down again to the cellar. Most old houses like these had cellars. Luckily, mine was fairly empty. There were four strong support beams though, and I handcuffed him to one. As he struggled around, I gauged his reaching circumference. I cleared away anything within his grasp. He started grunting. Yes, grunting. Good God. He waved his free hand in my direction, swinging wildly. Like a drunk in a barroom. Except he wasn’t drunk and we weren’t a bar. We were in my home, and something very strange was happening. A red splotch had appeared above his eye where I had hit him. He didn’t seem to notice, nor care. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a caged animal. Caged in my basement.
Lord help me. “I’m sorry, Mike.”
“Commeeeer,” he growled, combining the words. He could have been drunk or high.
Or possessed.
“Do you want some...water?” I asked, catching my breath and studying him. “Anything?”
For an answer, he lurched for me, seemingly forgetting he was cuffed to the post. His arm twisted painfully, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“You remember Joe?” I asked. It sounded like a stupid question, but it wasn’t. Mike was almost gone. I could see that. Gone where, I didn’t know. Alarm raged through me.
But, amazingly, he did try to focus. “Joe?”
“Yeah. You’re with Joe.”
He stood still. “Sick.” Now he was miserable again.
“I’m going to bring Joe down here.” Perhaps being with his friend would soothe him. Then again, what the hell did I know? I was just a park ranger with a little girl.
I needed help. They needed help.
Mike was sweating now, gasping, licking his lips. I could tell he was trying to get a grip. He seemed to notice the cuffs for the first time, rattling them. “Sick,” he said again, then tried to jerk the cuffs off. He pulled so hard I thought he’d broken his wrist. He didn’t care. What the hell was wrong with them?
Then he lunged at me again. And again. He seemed, amazingly, to have forgotten he was tethered to the beam.
“I’ll be back,” I said, more to myself than him. Hell, he wasn’t listening anyway.
I headed up to confront my brother.
* * *
I tried to treat Joe with more tenderness. Before unlocking the door, I called to him. “Joe?” Nothing. I tried again, raising my voice. “Joey?”
“Jack!” His tone was low. Guttural.
“Hey, Joey. I’m gonna come in, okay?” I waited again. “Back a
way from the door, Joey.” I heard movement. He was backing away.
As I drew out the old key, something occurred to me. My brother and his friend, if anything, were acting like rabid animals. Rabies. Yes, I’d seen a few such cases as a park ranger. Horrible to watch, the creatures always had to be put down. As much as I hated to believe it, I suspected that my brother might have something similar.
There was, of course, no cure for the fast-acting rabies.
How that fit in with the meteor, I didn’t know, but for now, I was going to treat my brother and his friend—as much as I hated to do so—as rabid animals.
My adrenaline was pumping when I steadied my hand enough to unlock and open the door. There he was, squatting in the center of the room, bloodied hands resting flat on the floor.
“Joey—”
I had barely gotten his name out when he bared his teeth and, quicker than Mike, charged me. He hit me before I could respond and we crashed together into the hallway wall. We fell to the floor and I found myself pummeling him. He grunted and growled. I probably did, too. Fighting my brother in the silence of the house, I thought for sure our ruckus would wake the neighbors. It was probably a good thing the walls were so thick.
I kept punching him, but he didn’t back off. He scratched at my eyes. He kneed me where it counted. I doubled over on the hallway floor near the stairs. A hallway table was nearby, a table filled with Anna’s geode rock collection. Many beautiful rocks were lined up, from small to big.
I tore free of my brother’s grasp and picked the biggest geode. Joey was right on top of me again—and was just about to bite me when I brought the beautiful rock down on his head. Harder than I intended.
My brother dropped to the ground.
“Jesus,” I whispered, gasping.
My cut along my knuckles continued to burn.
* * *
Having worked with animals (and a few drunks), I knew how hard it was to move dead weight. It was difficult to be gentle. This is my brother, I thought, as his feet thudded down the stairs. My brother who tried to bite me. I couldn’t think of an illness that resembled these symptoms more than rabies. But I didn’t yet know what I was dealing with, did I? No. Not by a long shot.
In the basement, Mike only made matters worse. I had to maneuver myself and Joe past him to the other main beam. I should’ve thought of that before. I should have thought of a lot of things before.
